


Even the Weariest River

by Caledonia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Era, M/M, Mental Health Issues, This one is a bit dark, and I am a little bit sorry, fragile Arthur, mega angst, serious angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caledonia/pseuds/Caledonia
Summary: Arthur is offered many things in life that he does not want, and the one thing he does want he believes he is utterly unworthy of.(I'm sorry- this one is quite angsty-read the tags, please <3)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 339
Collections: The Merlin/Arthur Kiss Fest 2019





	Even the Weariest River

**Author's Note:**

> ... even the weariest river  
> Winds somewhere safe to sea.  
> \- The Garden of Proserpine by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Arthur sat in his chair and he watched his servant ready his clothes for the evening’s festivities. Merlin talked as he worked, full of excitement for the midwinter feast, an excitement that Arthur did not share. The day outside was grey as iron, matching Arthur’s mood. Arthur watched Merlin work and he memorised the sight of him, carefree and happy. The glint in his ice-blue eyes, the curve of his red lips as he smiled, the turn and twist of his thin body as he moved. All of it was fuel for the fire inside Arthur that had been burning for so long he barely remembered its absence. 

“You don’t seem excited about the feast,” Merlin paused in his task, clothes brush held aloft over Arthur’s red velvet jacket, but his smile did not falter.

“I tire of these parties my father holds. Of the guests.”

_ Of all the tricks I must perform. Of all the smiles that do not reach my eyes. Of being who he wants me to be instead of who I am. Of breath. Of life. Of everything. _

“Surely you cannot be tired of the Lady Loretta’s attention,” Merlin said, his cheeks pinking, toeing so very close to the line of impropriety. Arthur’s breath caught in his chest; wool on the rough bark of a tree.

“I do not return her affections,” Arthur said, hollow, hollow, hollow.

“If she will not do, I am sure there are others,” Merlin said, dancing over the line with bare, nimble feet. 

“I do not want them, either,” Arthur whispered, the words burning his mouth on their way out.

Merlin acted as though he had not heard Arthur’s final whisper, but finished brushing down Arthur’s jacket and reached for his boots, which were already shining. All was ready. Arthur needed only to dress and descend to the festivities. His body was immovable, his heart a stone weighing him down.

“Come now, sire, you mustn’t keep your father waiting.”

Arthur rose and went to Merlin, imagining for an impossible second that he was walking into open arms, regretting the fantasy immediately - woollen breath, tangled woollen heart. Merlin performed his duty as always, his skin against Arthur’s skin a single flame on a dark, dark night. His smile an undeserved gift. The smell of him so familiar, so forbidden. His face so close, the curve of his neck, so thin and fragile. An exhale followed immediately by an inhale, Merlin’s breath in Arthur’s lungs; the same air, the same-

“Will you be there?” Arthur asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.  _ Be there for me please I need you, please. _

“As if I could get away,” Merlin said, concentrating on the buttons of Arthur’s jacket, his brow furrowed. Arthur was glad for this attention, Merlin’s fingers sliding each button into place, a twist of the wrist so gentle, and a smile that stung Arthur’s weary eyes.

“Try to enjoy yourself, sir.”

“Everyone has an agenda, Merlin,” Arthur said, checking to see if his misery was well enough hidden, “no one is safe.”

Merlin smiled again; everything Arthur wanted in the world, “I’m safe.”

A shrug of a shoulder, so thin. The rise and fall of a tunic over bony hips. The carelessness.  _ These words are nothing to me. I’m safe, Arthur, I’m safe. _

The truth of those words a slap to Arthur’s face, one side and then the other. His face reddening with the impact. The long walk to the great hall, the worn smile dug from beneath the smouldering dreams of a different future. The dinner and the people and the conversation. Endless. Arthur struggling to surface beneath a waterfall, the pull and push and crush of the current and the sharp, painful lack of oxygen until Merlin appeared at his side. The pale flash of skin at his wrist as he poured Arthur’s wine. The clutch of a hand on his shoulder.  _ I’m safe. _

_ You aren’t safe, Merlin, you’re the most frightening thing in my life. The way I feel about you the way I- _

An indulgent fantasy of a sunlit winter’s day, the curtains open despite the cold. The dance of dust in sunlight. The sharp, pale arch of an exposed shoulder. The hard jut of the bones of Merlin’s back beneath Arthur’s work-roughened fingers. Arthur’s endless apology kissed into Merlin’s porcelain skin.  _ I don’t deserve you I’m not enough I could never be I’m sorry. _

There was dancing then, Arthur’s feet as tangled as his thoughts and his desires. He could feel no happiness here. His father’s eyes on him - a brand of insufficiency. He breathed, his lungs aching with it, caught in the current, dragging down. Merlin’s hand on his arm, long fingers shaking slightly but why?

“You’re not looking well, sire, should you perhaps retire?”

_ I’m safe. _

“I believe you are right, Merlin, I do not feel well. Make my apologies to my father.”

The corridor so dark and cold after the warmth of the midwinter feast. The sound of it harsh against Arthur’s ears even through the closed door. Each step an eternity. Waiting. Waiting. Merlin there beside him, finally.

“Are you alright, Arthur?”

Dark hair falling in front of piercing blue eyes, brows furrowed in concern. Lips parted, slightly damp. Sharp chin and thin, fragile neck. So beautiful, so wonderfully, hurtfully beautiful. The fire burned inside Arthur, each of Merlin’s features an ember searing against his heart.  _ I’m safe. _

The chamber door shutting behind them, Arthur on his knees, folded, shielded, absolutely ruined by his need for Merlin, tears escaping through tightly closed eyes and the sick swell of shame.

Soft hands on his face so gentle; an argument against his unworthiness. 

Merlin on his knees, too, chest pressed against polished buttons. Tears wiped carefully away. Merlin’s healer’s hands cupped and cradled within Arthur’s killer’s hands. A perfect silhouette of Arthur’s pitiful worth in comparison. A plea.  _ I’m safe. Please be safe please be gentle I’m utterly broken but I’m trying, please. _

Merlin’s eyes so determined, his face so set. So scared. And a kiss, Merlin’s lips against Arthur’s, slightly damp but desperate, too, and a fire blazing out of control, Arthur holding on with every fibre of his being, begging for this to be real and not just another torturous vision of something that could never be.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, his voice shaking, a pale, trembling hand between them, fingers on lips. A tear in Merlin’s eyes now, and Arthur’s heart breaking.

“Sorry why?” Arthur breathed, woollen breath caught again and tugging, painful.

“I overstepped. I should not have-”

“I want you to.”

The truth finally so fragile like spun sugar between them but a smile, Merlin’s face brightening impossibly, the sun breaking through the clouds unexpectedly, a flower blooming beneath snow.

Another kiss, less gentle, polished buttons scraping ribs, killer’s hands splayed over the hard bones of the healer’s back, healer’s hands on Arthur’s face, healing. Arthur pulling back with the shock of ice shattering, a wretched sound from within his tangled, woollen body.

“We can’t. You shouldn’t. I’m not- You’re so much better than-”

A hand soft as summer grass against his face, another tear dissolved against pale, thin skin. A smile, lips parted, sunlight pouring out, blue eyes dancing barefoot and Arthur following, in awe.

“Since when have I ever done as you asked?”

A midwinter morning, curtains open despite the cold. Specks of dust floating through shafts of dazzling sunlight. A gentle sigh in the quiet room; contentment in a sound. The exposed skin of a shoulder, the relentless bones of an underfed spine arching beneath battle-roughened hands. The complicated untangling of a woollen soul; a gentle refinement into spools of golden thread. An endless apology of kisses from Arthur’s warm mouth captured by Merlin’s skin and retrained into something like love. 


End file.
